Duck, Oliver & The Little Western Branch
by The Railway Man
Summary: Duck & Oliver are Great Western, and prove that they should stand together when their line is threatened by a devious bus company - Based Upon 'The Railway Series' By Wilbert & Christopher Awdry
1. Default Chapter

DUCK, OLIVER  
& THE LITTLE WESTERN  
  
By J. O. S. Smith  
  
Dear Friends  
  
During my early years, a friend invited me to the premiere of a film at the local picture house, a comedy about a small railway company struggling for  
survival. Not only did this film amuse and catch me from beginning to end, but I couldn't help but notice that one of the 'silent stars' (as one might put it), was none other then a GWR 0-4-2 Tank Engine. Not only is this my favoured class of locomotive, but also that of an engine that had recently been saved from scrap and restored on Sir Topham Hatt's Railway.  
  
I can contributed, some months before, towards the restoring of this locomotive, along with many other enthusiast railway fans, all determined to bring back the age of steam. The operation had been a complete success, and the news headlines spoke about it for weeks. An engine had been saved,  
and given proper, Sodor Maintenance. And then, months down the line, this amusing motion picture was released.  
  
Now, not long ago, I came across archives for the 'Steam World' magazine, and came found something that caught my attention straight away. Instantly,  
my memories flowed back to that day at the picture house, watching that  
fascinating tale of a small railway village's fight for the survival of it's one and only locomotive, against a devious bus company. And can you guess where the script writer gained inspiration? Why, none other then the  
Little Western Branch Line on the Island of Sodor!  
  
I wrote to Sir Topham Hatt at once, requesting that I came turn these events into an amusing new book, but at the same time, to tell the public  
of the 'real' story behind the film. He himself had disapproved of the film, as dramatic elements had been added much against his wishes. But he was more then delighted to allow me to expose the truth and the true nature  
of Sodor Railways.  
  
And so, I proudly present to you this wonderful new collection of tales, From one of Sodor's most lively, colourful locations... The Little Western Branch! Without it's two splendid engines, it may not have been the same again! But of course, you'll need to read the stories to find out why!  
  
The Author  
  
These stories are adapted from true events which inspired the successful Elling Studios comedy; 'The Titfeild Thunderbolt'. 


	2. It's Safer By Road

"IT'S SAFER BY ROAD"  
  
Duck and Oliver, the Great Western Engines, are a splendid pair. Together they run like clockwork the branch line that runs along the beautiful coastal beaches and towns of the island, to the busy bustling sea-port near the Small Railway. This unique little line has become known among all it's friends and fans as 'The Little Western Branch'. Duck and Oliver can't think of a better name!  
  
The engines are always on time, and the passengers find it a pleasure to ride aboard their 'Great Western' trains. If one is ill, the other will stand in for him. Engines will come and go, but Duck and Oliver will always be a common sight on this beautiful little line.  
  
Indeed, everything ran well for the two Great Western Engines, until the arrival of an unwanted visitor, a bus named Bulgy. He was rude to the engines, and even attempted to steal their passengers. But the sulky fellow soon meet a humourous end, and sits now as a hen-house in a field some-way along the line. The trouble seemed to have passed by swiftly, but little did Oliver and Duck know that more trouble was waiting just around the corner, only a few months later...  
  
*  
  
The sun shone brightly over the coastal beauty of the Island of Sodor. Oliver the Great Western Engine was making his way swiftly to the Small Railway depot with a special goods train. As usual, everything was running like clockwork. He had plenty of steam, and plenty of time to spare. The weather improved his mood, as he clattered past the field where Bulgy the bus (or should I say, Bulgy the hen-house) stood, dozing in the sunlight. Oliver chuckled to himself as he rumbled past.  
  
"PEEP! PEEP!", he tooted loudly, "Wake up lazybones!".  
  
The old bus was taken by such shock that his aged horn sounded - 'HONK! HONK!'. Chickens and hens, who had nestled comfortably on his bonnet were taken by equal alarm, and began fluttered about madly, squawking loudly and scattering feathers everywhere. The old bus gave Oliver a dark scowl as he puffed by.  
  
"What a lark! What a lark!", Oliver chuckled as he rolled smoothly on. He enjoyed teasing Bulgy. He felt that it had severed the old bus right to have himself landed in his current state. He was still grinning to himself as he arrived at the top station. Duck was there also, waiting with his afternoon train.  
  
"Anyone would think", said Oliver, "That Bulgy asked to become a hen- house!"  
  
"You aren't still tormenting him are you?", asked Duck gravely, "The past is the past after all".  
  
"Don't be such a spoil-sport Duck", grinned Oliver, "Our victory over Bulgy is symbolic victory over Monarchism" - he couldn't pronounce the right word. "Don't be you mean 'Modernization'?", chuckled Duck.  
  
"That's it", said Oliver swiftly, "Us getting rid of Bulgy means victory for railways over roads. To think, he wanted to take our place".  
  
"It's not all that bad", said Duck, "Look at Bertie. He's useful and efficient - And he is pro-railway", he added with an undertone.  
  
"Bulgy was a different case", snapped Oliver, "But with him no longer a threat to us, we don't have to worry about giving up our passengers..."  
  
And with that, he set off to deliver his important load. Once he had finished, he collected Isabel and Dulcie and set off back to the other end of the line where his own afternoon passengers were waiting. Along the way, he often passed the old bus station, where Bulgy used to live. He enjoyed the sight of seeing the old building, now tumble-down and unused, baring a broad sign outside which read 'For Sale'.  
  
But today, things were different. Oliver slowly puffed by the old bus station with a satisfied grin. But instead of the usual empty sight, his eyes met something new, causing his heart to sink. A large banner had been strung up across the doorway to the little building reading 'West-Island Bus Company: Re-Opened For Business'. He was taken by such surprise that he let off a blast of steam as he passed.  
  
"Horrors!", he cried, "What's all this?"  
  
"I haven't a clue", commented the driver, staring back towards the bus station and scratching his head with equal confusion, "Maybe we will learn more about it from the Fat Controller. He should be at the station".  
  
Oliver began to worry, and he purposely sped up on the final stretch towards the station. Isabel and Dulcie exchanged a worried chorus - "Oh dear! Oh dear! What could the matter be? What could the matter be?".  
  
They were soon to find out, as they rolled into the station moments later. But even more surprises were to come. Oliver was certain that he had made perfect timing, but much to his confusion, the station was packed with his afternoon 'regulars'. They all stood waiting for him, chatting excitedly.  
  
"What a comfortable ride", he over-heard one man say.  
  
"It certainly was a pleasure to take the service", agreed a woman.  
  
"What's all this about?", fumed Oliver, looking about the excited crowd anxiously, "Why are they all here so early?"  
  
Indeed, his afternoon passengers usually came in Bertie five minutes after he arrived. But Bertie was nowhere to be seen. At last, his driver spoke. His voice had a concerned note - "I think that is the answer to our puzzle".  
  
And sure enough it was. Sir Topham Hatt was not on the platform, but standing in the station car-park, talking to a pair of men, who both wore identical uniforms and caps. Behind them, his paint shining a baneful red and his smirk broad enough to crack his bonnet, stood a large double-decker bus. He was looking extremely pleased with himself, and as Oliver examined him further, he couldn't help but feel that he had seen that smirk somewhere before. He began to simmer loudly as Sir Topham Hatt approached the platform and spoke him.  
  
"I am proud to introduce you Oliver", he said with a smile, "To the West Island Bus Company and their very own bus, No. 294. They have agreed to assist us with the up-coming Summer 'peak' period. It'll be a lot of work for you and Duck to manage alone".  
  
Oliver eyed the bus cautiously as his crew stepped down onto the platform to meet the acquaintance of the bus driver and conductor, and from the looks of it, there was certainly fiction between the two groups as they shook firm hands. The bus glanced over at Oliver and whispered, his voice low enough so as not to attract the attention of anyone nearby, Sir Topham Hatt in particular.  
  
"So", he muttered, with a smile, "You must be Oliver. Yes. I was told a lot about you"  
  
"Well I...", Oliver began.  
  
But he found that he could not complete his sentence, as a memory returned from several months earlier. The day Bulgy had stolen Duck's passengers, Oliver had seen not one, but two large double-decker buses, standing side- by-side. One of them had been Bulgy, the other just as large, red and rude. It was this fellow who had taken Bulgy's passengers, leaving Bulgy to steal Duck's. Oliver gasped as it all began to make sense.  
  
"So it's you", he muttered from behind gritted teeth, "Your the one who caused the whole predicament".  
  
"How could I stand to see a fellow bus loose vital passengers to railway engines?", replied the bus, "Besides, it would be unsafe for them to travel in such dangerous things"  
  
"Dangerous?", spluttered Oliver, wheeshing loudly from his pistons in sudden anger, "I'll have you know..."  
  
"That you haven't had an accident in years?", asked the bus sarcastically, "Well then", he continued with a light chuckle, "Would you call, say, falling into the turn-table well an accident? Or was that just as rumour"  
  
Oliver fell silent, but the water in his tanks began to boil with burning fury. His accident with the turn-table well had marked an embarrassing beginning to his life on Sodor, especially with the trucks. But he never imagined that it would reach the ears of outsiders. Before he could reply, the bus continued to speak. "Bulgy was put to disgrace at the hands of you railway engines", he muttered, "But that won't happen now that I'm on the road. I'll prove once and for all that it's safer by road. You'll be preserved as museum pieces in no time at all!"  
  
"Nonsense", snorted Oliver, finally finding his voice, "You'll be turned into a hen-house before you can even say 'Free The Roads'"  
  
The bus growled with fury as the guard finally blew his whistle and Oliver steamed away, grinning cheekily. The bus watched him with a dark scowl until he was out of sight and away on his journey. But all the while, Oliver couldn't help but think about what the bus had said.  
  
*  
  
"Funny that", chuckled Duck, "Only just this morning were you going on about how our victory over Bulgy had been a victory against 'Monarchism'".  
  
Oliver wasted no time in informing Duck of what had happened that afternoon as they stood in their shed that evening. He had gone about his work all day, thinking about his meeting with the arrogant bus. It had now reached a point where he could no longer hold back his anger, and his concern, for much longer.  
  
"Don't joke Duck!", whispered Oliver, "He had the cheek to call us dangerous!".  
  
"Dangerous you say?", asked Duck's driver, who had been talking with Oliver's driver as they prepared to bid their two engines goodnight, "Well then, we'll soon do something about that!".  
  
"A lumbering brute like that has some nerve to say such things about engines of the Fat Controller's Railway", added Oliver's driver, "The day that Sodor gives way the roads is the day that the sky falls!".  
  
Oliver looked skyward anxiously. His driver chuckled - "It's only an expression". Oliver felt much better after that. An hour or so later, the two engines and their drivers were still discussing ways in which they hoped to get back at the baneful bus, but they had no luck.  
  
"We'll sleep on it", said Duck's driver, "In the meantime, don't let it get to you".  
  
The engines agreed, but found themselves awake, further into the night, still deep in plotting conversation.  
  
*  
  
Duck always left early in the morning with the first train of the day, departing from the main station on the Little Western Branch, enroute for Knapford. It took all the village folk to work, and it was vital that he arrived on time. But Duck the Great Western Engine is never late for any occasion.  
  
His fire was burning nicely and he had plenty of water as he rolled into the station with Alice and Mirabel. Passengers often came on foot, and Duck would always be there to greet them when they arrived. But as he came to a stop, he noticed the large, red brute standing in the station courtyard, smirking his familiar smile.  
  
"So that's the old fellow", he chuckled to his driver, "No wonder Oliver's frightened. Why, together, he and Bulgy could pass as twins".  
  
The bus looked up as Duck let off steam - "Ah", he said, "So your the other one that runs this branch".  
  
"How observant", replied Duck bluntly. He wasn't scared of buses, especially this one, "And why have you decided to park yourself here?"  
  
"To save your passengers from danger", the bus swiftly replied. He eyed Alice and Mirabel - "The thought of allowing them to ravel in such dangerous, unsafe transport makes my axles groan in mourning".  
  
Alice and Mirabel were most offended - "Oooo", they quivered, "What a brute! What a brute!". But Duck hushed them - "Don't worry", he whispered, "Our friends think otherwise". This made the two coaches feel much happier.  
  
At that moment, the morning crowd arrived in the courtyard, enjoying the morning sunshine, when they were suddenly met with a difficult choice. Road or Rail? Some of them turned to each other, hoping to find an answer. Duck, the coaches and the crew all held their breath - "No doubt that baneful brute will try and steal our passengers from us again", muttered the fireman.  
  
"Just give it a moment", whispered the driver, "Most of our passengers are our friends. They would never give up Duck for a bus".  
  
And he was right. Most of the passengers had known Duck since the opening of the Little Western Branch and they wasted no time in climbing aboard Alice and Mirabel, who sang with rejoice as they slowly began to fill. But, others pondered long and hard before climbing aboard the bus. The conductor and driver exchanged satisfied grins, as the bus himself began to purr maliciously. Before long, Duck's train was only half full. The rest of his passengers had climbed aboard the bus.  
  
"Next time", the bus joked, as his engine roared to life, "I might may need to take two trips!", and he spluttered away out of the courtyard and off down the road.  
  
Duck watched him - "Now what'll we do?", he asked his crew. But it seemed that they had decided long before.  
  
"We'll race him!", they said together, "We'll show him just how safe we can be, and get their in record time".  
  
The passengers, and the two coaches, had no objections. Duck was anxious, but he was willing to try anything to out-beat the arrogant bus. In no time at all, the guard blew his whistle loudly, and with a flap of his green flag, Duck pulled out of the station with several big puffs of thick smoke. And with his passengers cheering and his coaches singing, he was on his way down the line with his fire roaring and his pistons pushing steadily.  
  
"Come on boy!", called his driver, "Your doing nicely!"  
  
"We'll show em'! We'll show em'!", Duck chanted, as he continued to coast down the line, gathering speed. The road ran near to the railway at several points down the line. At times, they would be separated by thick trees and forests. They reached a stretch of line that ran parallel with the road before turning off into a tunnel. Sure enough, the bus was speeding hastily along. Duck drew up alongside.  
  
"So it's a race that you'll be wanting", the bus hooted loudly, "In that case, I except!"  
  
"Anything to prove you wrong", chuckled Duck, and with ease, he steamed on ahead, over-taking the bus and disappearing into the tunnel, his smoke blinding the bus.  
  
"The cheek of it!", he spluttered, "The cheek!"  
  
"Don't give up already fella", encouraged his driver, "We'll do this one for Bulgy!"  
  
And with a roar of his engine and a loud blast of his horn, the bus sped on, up and over the bridge. The passengers inside clung to their luggage and stared out of the window in confusion, startled by the sudden increase in speed. Before long, they were passing near to the railway line once again, separated by a river. Duck was making excellent timing and was still ahead. The bus gave a loud blast of his horn - "It's Safer By Road!", he sang rudely, as his driver madly pushed down the peddle, increasing speed further. Within seconds, he had over-taken the train and disappeared behind a cluster of forestry.  
  
"I don't think I can go much faster!", Duck called, "It would be far too dangerous!"  
  
"That's sensible thinking", called his fireman, "Even though it would be nice to show that brute what we're really made of, safety does come first".  
  
And with that, Duck's driver slowly brought him back to his usual steady pace. The passengers groaned and sat back in their seats. Alice and Mirabel grumbled - "Should have taken the chance! Should have taken the chance!", but Duck knew that he couldn't afford to take any risks, especially racing with a bus.  
  
But their lose was short-lived. No sooner had Duck steamed past the village, a red flat appeared on the station-platform up ahead. Duck was confused as his driver slowly brought him to a stop - "We don't usually stop here on the morning run", he said thoughtfully, "There must be an emergency".  
  
Sure enough, as he left off steam, he was surprised to find the station crowded with passengers. Within moments, he realized that they were the passengers they had lost to the bus, but what were they doing here? He over- heard them grumbling loudly. "Dangerous driving!", a man complained loudly.  
  
"Such a jeopardous thing should be taken off the roads at once", added a woman in agreement.  
  
The station-master approached anxiously and spoke to Duck and his crew- "We've run into a spot of trouble", he explained, "Do you think you could take these passengers on to Knapford?"  
  
"Whatever for?", asked Duck. But he soon found out why. Sure enough, standing on the roadside near the station building, his face fuming redder then his paint, stood the baneful bus. He was grumbling loudly and scowling. A police-car was parked behind him as his driver and conductor stood nearby, looking very ashamed of themselves as a police-man loomed over them, writing furiously in his notebook.  
  
"Speeding way over the limit", said a second policeman who was trying to keep the crowd calm on the platform, "In a public area too! A regular law- breaker!"  
  
"So", chuckled Duck with a broad smile, "It's safer by road is it?"  
  
The bus pulled a dark scowl at him and continued to sulk loudly, his motor moaning and his crew red in the face with embarrassment. But there were more important issues at hand. Duck saw the anger on the faces of the passengers, and knew what he had to do - "Don't worry", he told them, "I'll get you there with minutes to spare".  
  
The passengers were delighted. The apologized to Duck for not boarding his train - "That was one of silliest mistakes we've ever made", they said, "How could we doubt you Duck?".  
  
"Passengers and safety", smiled Duck proudly, "Always come first on The Little Western Branch".  
  
And in no time at all, the doors were banged, and the guard blew his whistle loudly. With one final toot of his whistle, Duck pulled out of the station with the passengers cheering, the coaches singing, and the bus growling in fury.  
  
***** 


	3. Steam Duel

STEAM DUEL  
  
Duck laughed all the way home that evening, and so did his driver and fireman. They couldn't wait to tell Oliver the news.  
  
"That's one in the head-lamp for 'Old Safety-Wheels'", Oliver tooted with triumph once Duck had concluded his story, "If he keeps up those dangerous stunts, he'll be off the road by the end of the week!"  
  
"All the same", said Oliver's driver, "We shall have to wait and see what happens". The fireman gravely nodded in agreement. The engines exchanged anxious looks. Neither of them understood what he meant, but they were soon to find out.  
  
*  
  
The big red bus bumped angrily along the country road that ran near the railway. Both his decks were empty of passengers. Nobody wanted to ride in him. They thought him too dangerous. Much to his fury, the news had stretched much further then the Little Western Branch. Bertie and his friends couldn't hold back their chuckles as he had rumbled past their bus station that morning. Engines wheeshed him and passengers shook their heads in disapproval - "It's all that steam engine's fault!", he grumbled, "Now I'm a laughing stock! I'm a disgrace to my cause!"  
  
"Don't give up so easily", whispered his conductor, "It's only been two days. Give it time and before long, we'll be giving those out-of-date danger-hazards a run for their money".  
  
"We'll have to be discreet though", added the driver, "The manager wasn't too happy about that ticket!"  
  
Indeed he wasn't. The bus company manager wasn't pleased at all at being sent all the way from Knapford in the middle of the night to pay the speeding tax. He had given his crew a fair warning, which stick well in their minds. But the bus couldn't help but think about the day before, and the embarrassment he had suffered since. He wanted to get back at the railway, but how, he didn't know.  
  
Further ahead, just before the level crossing leading towards the town, some workmen were widening the road. George the steam roller was helping, chanting his usual song as he went about his work - "Railways are no good! Pull'em up! Turn em' into roads!".  
  
A temporary set of traffic lights had been set up to guide the traffic. At present, the bus came rolling nosily up alongside, waiting for the lights to change, his exhaust-pipe spluttering in complaint.  
  
"I can't work any faster", George mumbled hotly, "If that's what's making you grumble so loudly".  
  
"It's not that", the bus snapped back, "It's this miserable railway".  
  
George, who had always been anti-rail since his arrival on the island, was strike by an instant sense of comradeship - "The railway you say?", he asked darkly. The bus told him everything about the previous day, how he had almost succeeded in taking Duck's passengers, but ended up being stopped by the police...and loosing the passengers to Duck once again - "It's a disgrace!", he concluded, "Buses everywhere shall look down upon me forever"  
  
George felt sympathy for this fellow - "It is indeed a shame", he said sympathetically, "But there is a way in which you could get your own back..."  
  
"There is?", asked the bus with excitement, "Please tell me!"  
  
George looked about to see if anyone would catch his words before whispering discreetly. The bus grin broadened at each word - "It'll look just like an accident", concluded the unfavorable steamroller, "And they can't do a thing about it!"  
  
"Excellent plan!", chuckled the bus, "I'll try it!"  
  
And he sped away the moment that the traffic lights changed.  
  
*  
  
Oliver was excited, as he steamed into the main station at the end of the line with Isabel and Dulcie, their paint shining brightly in the mid- morning sunlight. With Duck away on the Mainline for the day, he had been given the task of taking some very important people, to a very important event at the big town on the other end of the Little Western Branch. A new transport museum was opening, and he was to take the ribbon-cutter, along with other special guests to the ceremony. He barked excitedly as he came to a halt at the platform, the important passengers climbing aboard. It was Bertie had brought them to the station.  
  
"Good day to you Bertie!", Oliver called excitedly, "I see 'Old Safety- Wheels' decided not to show himself"  
  
Bertie chuckled - "You mean Brutus?", he asked, "Indeed. The passengers are too anxious to ride with him. The news of his run in with the police yesterday is all over the branch line".  
  
Oliver gave a whistle of delight - "And he said he would put us to shame!", he grinned with pride, "Duck certainly showed him! Bye Bertie!"  
  
And with a big whoosh of steam from his pistons, he set off smoothly down the line. Before long, he was coasting through the countryside beauty of the branch line, tall hills on one side, thick trees on the other. A road ran beyond the trees, but it was ckear, much to Oliver's delight - "So", he thought as he puffed along, "His name is Brutus! I'd say it suits well! What a lark!"  
  
At present, he passed by George and the workman, who had just finished their task and were loading a trailer readying to head home. He took this chance to have some fun - "Peep! Peep!", he whistled loudly, "One to us!".  
  
George said nothing. He only watched with a dark scowl as the train rolled on ahead - "We'll soon see about that", he huffed under his breath, and set off slowly down the road.  
  
Everything was going well, until they arrived at the level crossing. Oliver's driver quickly shut off steam and brought his engine to a halt. Oliver felt his brakes scream and he shut his eyes - "Ooooo!", he groaned, "Whatever is happening?"  
  
And the moment he opened his eyes, his smile faded. Sure enough, sitting directly in the middle of the crossing, his bonnet smoking, sat the big red bus, or should I say, Brutus. His conductor had flagged down the train, whilst his driver was looking him over to see if he was hurt. Oliver puffed steam crossly.  
  
"What's all this about?", he steamed, "I'm going to be late!"  
  
"I'm not going anywhere!", Brutus swiftly replied, "I've broken down".  
  
Oliver continued to huff smoke loudly in aggression as his driver, fireman and guard all met beside the line. They spoke for a moment before approaching Brutus' driver and conductor on the crossing.  
  
"Your going to have to move this thing on the double Eddie", the driver said bluntly to the bus conductor, "This train has to be in town before midday".  
  
"I don't think that will be so easy Del", the bus conductor replied, "Our Brutus is having engine trouble. How's he coming Earl?" - he called over his shoulder to the bus driver.  
  
"The fan-belt's snapped", he replied, slamming down the bonnet quickly, "We're going to have to call for a tow".  
  
Brutus squirmed. But Oliver was sure that he saw a distant smile upon the baneful bus' face.  
  
"That's not good enough", replied Oliver's fireman, "That could take hours! We'll be late, and that just can't happen!"  
  
"We're all stuck here till we move Brutus", replied the conductor with a snappy tone, "The facts are clear and simple Colin. We have just as much work to do as you and your tea-pot-on-wheels over there".  
  
Oliver's fire began to spit in his cab, sending ashes all over his foot plate. Isabel and Dulcie exchanged anxious looks and repaired themselves for the worst. They could feel their coupling chains shaking, not with fear, but from Oliver's anger.  
  
Oliver's driver and fireman swallowed the opportunity to argue - "This wouldn't happen to be deliberate now would it?", asked the guard with suspicion.  
  
"Your saying that we snapped our own bus' fan-belt on purpose?", said the bus driver, quickly joining the conductor at his side, "Why? I'll soon set you straight..."  
  
An argument erupted. The guard was having trouble separating Oliver's driver and fireman from Brutus' driver and conductor. Brutus smirked. Little did his crew know that he had indeed snapped his fan-belt on purpose. But this sly gesture did not go unnoticed. Oliver caught him in the act and steam began to pour from his pistons. At present, the chairman of the transport museum had joined the five men beside the track.  
  
"I say!", he said, "What is all this about?" - but he received no clear answer, as both sets of men burst into speech, placing the blame equally on one another. Eventually, the chairman had had enough - "Silence!", he boomed, "There is no time for little arguments! Now, my fellow enthusiasts and I have an important engagement, and if that bus isn't moved in time..."  
  
"I'll have to move it!", said Oliver flatly.  
  
Nobody was sure what happened next, but all the men could do was quickly fling themselves out of Oliver's path, as he slowly rolled forwards, picking up speed as he went, smoke pouring from his funnel and his pistons. Brutus let out a yell of shock and shut his eyes. With a mighty CLANK! , Oliver rammed into his side. He topped over and slide sideways into a ditch, coming a stop with a crash, dazed and surprised.  
  
"Ha!", said Oliver proudly, reversing backwards as more heads appeared out of the carriage windows, the six men on the track side staring in disbelief at the gazed and surprised Brutus, "That'll teach you to get in my way!"  
  
At last, the bus driver spoke - "You'll pay for that one!", he shouted, raising his fist at Oliver and running over to the ditch with the conductor to see if their bus was alright. He was groaning loudly, his bonnet hissing and his side dented. Oliver was pleased with himself, but his driver and fireman were not impressed.  
  
"What were you thinking?", they cried, "Doing that all by yourself? And without warning us!"  
  
"He did it on purpose!", Oliver shouted back, "He deserved it!"  
  
The driver, fireman and guard hadn't a clue of what to do next. But now, they were joined by even more passengers, all confused and anxious. But surprisingly, some of them looked rather excited. Just then, a distant chugging sounded in the distance. Sure enough, George the Steamroller came rolling along the road towards the crossing. He saw Brutus in the ditch, and then he saw Oliver, hissing proudly with a broad grin.  
  
"What's all this?", he spluttered.  
  
"That's iron brute just knocked me off the road!", cried Brutus.  
  
"Serves you right!", Oliver called. Isabel and Dulcie were exchanging remarks of embarrassment, but Oliver didn't care.  
  
Suddenly, the bus driver and conductor came running over to George and whispered to his driver. And I can tell you now, that this fellow was just as anti-rail as the wretched steamroller himself - "If that's what they want!", he said once the two men had whispered their plan, "Then that's what they'll get! Are you ready George?"  
  
"More then ever!", huffed George, and wasting no time, he rolled forwards and onto the track, facing Oliver head on. Oliver stared back at him with a glint of excitement in his eyes.  
  
"So, your challenging me to a 'Steam Duel'?", he asked with a grin.  
  
"You'd better be careful if you don't want to end up like Sir Handle", George grunted in response.  
  
Suddenly, a chorus of cheers and whistling blowing occurred from the large crowd beside the line. All the passengers had gathered, and much to Oliver's surprise, they were spurring him on - "Go it Oliver!", they cheered, "Show that road-baring brute what a steam engine can do!". The chairman of the museum, the driver and the fireman didn't a clue of what was going on. They exchanged silent, confused looks - "A 'Steam Duel'?"  
  
But they soon learned what exactly a 'Steam Duel' was. Without warning, Oliver let off steam loudly and began to roll steadily forwards, the coaches wailing behind him. They closed their eyes and watched for the impact, as George stood firmly on the track. There was a mighty CLANG!, as Oliver rammed straight into George's front roller, sending him backwards a short way - "Ouch!", he cried, "You'll pay for that one teapot!"  
  
Oliver didn't reply. He just backed up slowly, still grinning, ready to charge. But George didn't hesitate. With a blast of his shrill whistle, he rolled forwards and with a loud CLANG!, just as loud as the first, Oliver found himself and the train rolling backwards several inches. He was most surprised at the sudden attack - "Oooo", he hissed, "That hurt!".  
  
"Come on Oliver!", cried his crew, "Back down!"  
  
But Oliver wouldn't listen. Instead, he began to puff thick clouds of smoke through his pistons, preparing to charge. The passengers were cheering him on by his side, whilst Brutus and his crew cheered on George, who backed up to the crossing. The two were like a pair of knights, waiting for the right moment to siege forwards. At last, Oliver's driver and fireman lost patience. They quickly ushered the passengers back into the train (who were still cheering their engine on), along with the museum chair-man, who quickly retreated for the brake-van, so as not to feel the force too violently. "Come on old boy!", said his driver and fireman, "We'll do it this time, and then we'll be on our way!"  
  
"Go it George!", shouted Brutus from the ditch, "Show that teapot what real strength is!"  
  
Both engines stood face to face, a short distant of track between them. Suddenly, with a large blast of smoke from their tall funnels, both set off at the same time, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed, racing towards each other head on. Oliver was confident, his fire roaring and his sight set on George, who was equally determined. The passengers held on tight and closed their eyes, along with the coaches, who continued to wail - "The madness! The madness!", they screamed.  
  
"CH-CLANG!!!"  
  
The noise echoed as the two engines 'locked horns'. Oliver's wheels gripped the rails perfectly, as his coupling rods spun, driving himself against George. George, on the other hand, was having a spot of trouble. Despite his size and weight, he wasn't very stable on the rails. He could feel himself starting to wobble.  
  
"No! It can't be!", he cried, as Oliver continued to push him backwards, his wheels now sending violent sparks up into the air.  
  
Brutus, his driver and conductor all let out a gasp, as with a mighty push, George slid right off the line and joined them in the ditch with a crash. His driver was knocked completely off his seat and was sent flying into a nearby field. The eruption of cheers was unbelievable, as Oliver sped off down the now clear line, rumbling over the level crossing, his whistle wailing loudly, his face red with exhaustion.  
  
"That was exciting!", he panted as they rolled away from the crossing, "That'll show those baneful road-barers what we're made of!"  
  
"Indeed", said his driver, "But what if the Fat Controller finds out?"  
  
Oliver hadn't thought about that one. But he couldn't help enjoying the attention of the passengers, which continued all the way to the station.  
  
*  
  
The train rolled in exactly nine minutes behind schedule. The museum committee were cross, but their complaints were drowned up by the continuing chorus of cheers for Oliver, who could only blush a deep scarlet.  
  
"This amazing engine", they said excitedly, "Has shown us how strong and determined a engine racing against time can be...even if he did arrive nine minutes late!"  
  
"Anyone would think", Oliver's fireman muttered, "That they would disapprove of such behavior, "They are railway enthusiasts after all". But Oliver didn't notice the museum chairman, who slipped quickly through the crowd, and was approached a familiar-looking man, donning a top-hat, his face blunt and serious. The chairman spoke to him before turning on his heal and storming into the museum building, followed by the excited enthusiasts. The top-hat made his way through the crowd and approached Oliver. It was the Fat Controller. The platform fell silent, and Oliver's face turned pale.  
  
"There is only one word I can find to explain this childish behavior Oliver", he said gravely, placing his hands behind his back, "Horseplay!"  
  
"I'm sorry sir...", the Great Western Engine began, "I was..."  
  
"You are to take your coaches back to the carriage shed, and return to the yard at once", the manager continued, ignoring Oliver's words, "I shall speak with you later"  
  
And with that, Oliver turned around on the turntable, and scuttled home in cold silence, his heart sunk and his pride gone in a puff of smoke.  
  
***** 


	4. Sabotage

SABOTAGE  
  
Brutus' repairs were only minor. He had suffered from some dented metal- work and scratched paint. It took only a few days for his driver and conductor to get the repairs done in time. The night they completed the work, heavy rain poured down, the sky grey and dark as the grumbling bus' mood.  
  
"I shall never be the same bus again!", he moaned loudly in complaint, "Pushed off the road...by a railway engine! The shame of it!"  
  
"Don't tell me your giving up!", snapped the driver, "Sure, we may have come out with a few scars, but guess what we found out yesterday?"  
  
"That old tea-pot was punished by his manager", continued the conductor, "That's progress isn't it?"  
  
Brutus smirked - "That'll teach him to push me! But with him out of the way, that still leaves the other one! And nobody wants to ride with us anymore!...They think I'm too dangerous", he added with a dark tone to his voice.  
  
"Well then", said the driver, "What we need is a plan"  
  
"A plan to prove once and for all", agreed the conductor, "That it's safer by road!"  
  
There was a moment of silence, and no sooner had the driver clicked his fingers with a malicious grin, a familiar chugging sounded in the distance, as George the Steam Roller slowly came into view. He rolled into the yard, the rain pouring down his boiler. Brutus' driver and conductor quickly thrust the shed doors open to invite him in. He was grumbling loudly as he came to a hissing stop beside Brutus. His driver jumped down, his face almost identical to that his steam-roller.  
  
"I've had it up to hear with that railway!", he fumed, placing a hand on George's front-roller to support himself, "First they put the blame on us for trying to race with that...that..."  
  
"Imitation steam-roller!", George mumbled hotly, remembering his run-in with Sir Handle.  
  
"That's the one!", his driver continued, "And now, they have the cheek to push my engine into a ditch. Look at the damage!"  
  
George was far too furious to speak, yet the damage to his front roller was beyond repair since the incident. It would take a lot of smoldering work.  
  
"Well then", smiled Brutus, "Why don't you help us with our plan?"  
  
"You mean", George spluttered, "Get our own back?"  
  
"Exactly", said the bus driver, and he coaxed the two men into a tight group talk. The baneful bus and the spiteful steam roller listened with delight. Once he had finished speaking, their grins were almost identical - "We'll do it tonight!"  
  
*  
  
Oliver banged furiously about the yard, sending unloaded trucks screaming helplessly into sidings, their precious load of ballast spilling out onto the ground. Sir Topham Hatt had spoken to him several nights before, and he was certain that he would not forget a word of the speech that he received. His punishment was to 'pilot' the goods yard near the Small Railway, where ballast comes in to be loaded and unloaded. The manager knew that it would be a punishment fit for Oliver, as he had always hated ballast trucks since his accident with the turn-table well. The heavy rain had passed, leaving the sky a thick and gloomy grey.  
  
"This isn't fair at all!", he yelled, as he bumped a second line of trucks into a siding, "How could the Fat Controller take the sides of a bus and a steam-roller?"  
  
"Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to shove them both into a ditch", said his driver warningly, "Come on Oliver. That was a little too rough don't you think?"  
  
"That Brutus broke down on purpose to try and make me late!", Oliver burst out, "I saw him laughing at me. I thought he would be up to no-good from the beginning".  
  
"Don't you think he has a point there Derek?", whispered the fireman, "You know what those two were like".  
  
The driver nodded gravely - "I see what you mean", he replied, "But still..." - They whispered discreetly as Oliver continued to grumble loudly, banging the trucks as he marshaled several 'empties' together. They nodded in agreement and backed him up towards the chute to be loaded. Once the loading began, they climbed down from the cab and took a seat on Oliver's front buffer-beams. For you see, Derek and Colin (Oliver's driver and fireman) are a pair who know what is best for their engine.  
  
"If the truth must to be revealed", said Colin, the fireman, "The two of us when to school with Brutus' driver and conductor. That's why we knew they names, and they knew ours. Their names are Earl and Eddie. We never used to get along at all".  
  
"Why?", asked Oliver, "Where they just as arrogant and stuck-up as Brutus?"  
  
"They were always anti-rail", continued Derek, the driver, "And as we had always wanted to work for Sir Topham Hatt's Railway, they would constantly put us down. I remember they used to say things like 'It'll be ripped up by the time you graduate'".  
  
Oliver shuddered - "Of course", continued Colin, "That wasn't true, and still isn't today. But no doubt those two will hold a grudge against us, especially after that 'Steam Duel'".  
  
Oliver was beginning to question his own behaviour. He felt sorry for his driver and fireman. He didn't want to put them in trouble as well. But before they could do anything else, Rex bustled in and came to a stop beside Oliver, his train loaded with ballast.  
  
"It's good your here", he panted - the heavy train had clearly been a problem for him, "We've been waiting for a pilot for quite some time?"  
  
"Why?", asked Oliver.  
  
"A large-scale load of ballast is required for the monthly line-maintenance check next week", Rex explained, "They said they would send Duck to help, but he's busy on the Mainline. Could you arrange the trucks for us?"  
  
Oliver hated the extra work, but he couldn't argue. The Fat Controller had given the Small Controller strict instructions to watch over him as he 'served his time'. For the rest of the day, he set about collecting 'empties' and taking them to the chute, and all the while, the Small Railway Engines were kept busy bringing in the ballast to be loaded into the empty trucks. Oliver then had to take them away and arrange them onto a siding for Douglas to pull away the next mourning. And as you know, ballast trucks are never an easy task, for by the time Oliver was finished, night was drawing on and the five little engines were tucked away in their shed comfortably.  
  
"Can I go home now?", he asked the night-watchman anxiously. It was getting cold and dark, as the nightly mists rolled in from the sea.  
  
"I'm sorry Oliver", he said, "But the Fat Controller says you must stay here until Douglas arrives tomorrow morning to take the ballast".  
  
Oliver fumed crossly as Derek and Colin backed him into a cozy siding out of the way - "Don't worry fella", they said warmly, "We'll be back as early as we can tomorrow to get you in steam".  
  
And before long, they were out of sight and had caught James' last train back to Knapford. Oliver didn't like sleeping outside during the night. It was cold, and he was growing more and more anxious by the minute. He could see Brutus and George in his mind, sitting in their warm sheds and laughing at him - "This is all their fault", he hissed to himself, "And those two driver and fireman were talking about". He remembered what his crew had told him earlier that day - "I'd do anything to get back at them for upsetting my crew. Why, I'd even leave my own rails to duel with Brutus..."  
  
But before his thoughts could carry him any further, Oliver found himself drifting off to sleep...  
  
He was being loaded onto a flat-truck. A transit-label had been placed on his boiler, reading 'Property of the Sodor Transport Museum Society'.  
  
Duck, Donald, Douglas, Toad and his dear coaches, Isabel and Dulcie sat on the line nearby, watching with solemn faces as he was secured down with strong chains. He wanted to speak, but his funnel was wrapped in a cloth, his coupling rods taken away and his firebox empty. He tried whistling, but that was no good either.  
  
Suddenly, the low-loader bust into life and with a loud blast of it's horn, it set off out of the yard. And as they pulled away, Oliver caught a glimpse of Brutus, standing beside the road with a large banner across his side reading 'Railway Bus', and all the passengers were climbing aboard with impressed expressions on their faces.  
  
*  
  
Oliver woke with a sudden start and looked frantically around. He sighed with relief to find that his wheels were still firmly on the rails, his coupling rods were in place, his funnel wasn't wrapped in cloth and his firebox still littered with ashes.  
  
"Oh dear", he thought, "What am I going to do now?"  
  
But suddenly, from somewhere up ahead, he caught the sound of a distant chugging sound, noisy and smokey. He couldn't see further then the chute on the opposite side of the yard. He tried to turn on his head-lamps, but it was no good. He needed his driver and fireman to do that - "How odd", he thought, "There aren't any trains schedules for this hour".  
  
Then a possibility came to him - "Maybe it's Rex, or even Mike coming in late" - But then he realized. He had been in the yard all day, and so had Rex and Mike. He had even seen them back in into their shed several hours earlier. Within minutes, he began to panic. Before he could call for help, something else caught his attention.  
  
Just beyond the chute was the siding where he had arranged the vital load for Douglas. He was most certain that the trucks were there before he went to sleep, but now, they were not! The siding was empty, and not a single truck could be seen!  
  
"HORRORS!", cried Oliver, and in a state of alarm, sounded his whistle loudly. It echoed all around the yard. The lights of the little railway shed came on and the night-watchman came running over to the siding from his hut as fast as his legs could carry him.  
  
"Whatever is the matter Oliver?", he asked, holding up a lamp, a scarf wrapped around his neck to keep himself warm in the bitter cold, "You'll wake the whole yard with that noise!"  
  
"The trucks!", Oliver cried, "They're gone!"  
  
The night-watchman turned and disappeared into the darkness. All the while, fear began to take over Oliver's tubes, as he felt his wheels shaking below him - "If something has happened", he thought, "The Fat Controller will surely send me away for good".  
  
The night-watchman returned moments later, and came running over to Oliver, panting loudly. He jumped into the cab before even explaining himself - "They're been a runaway!", he panted, "Those trucks have just rolled clear out of the yard. We must go after them at once!"  
  
Oliver gasped and wasted no time at all, as the night-watchman took off his hand brake and he steamed, out of the yard and down the line, gradually gathering speed.  
  
"How could this happen?", he asked himself as he steamed ahead, the night- watchman peering out of cab anxiously as he went, "There are no other engines around, or so I can remember. But the brakes on those trucks were hard on. It would take a lot of strength to move them".  
  
Suddenly, a distant sound of screaming trucks came clear up-ahead. Sure enough, as Oliver steamed on, the last of the long train of heavy ballast trucks came into view. They were rocking and swaying frantically, their wheels spinning uncontrollably. Their brakes had been snapped, almost forcefully. They had reached a downhill descent, which was increasing their speed dangerously. They screamed in fright as they continued to coast down the decent.  
  
"There they are!", cried the night watchman from the cab, "If you can get them under your control, everything will be fine! Do you think you can do it Oliver?"  
  
"I'll have to try my best", replied the determined Great Western Engine, and with every ounce of steam he had left, he seiged forwards, trying his very best to keep up with the trucks, his own speed increasing dangerously.  
  
Being a strong engine, he was able to speed ahead with ease, and his sanding gear allowed him to grip the rails firmly. All the while, the night- watchman checked his gauges and shoveled coal onto the fire. He had worked with Oliver before, and he was good friends with Derek and Colin. Within minutes, Oliver had the trucks under his control, as he buffered up to the last truck with a mighty CLANG!  
  
"Get' em!", he called.  
  
All that was left to do now was to bring them to a final stop. But this was a harder task then Oliver had expected. The heavy load of ballast was difficult to keep under control, and it spilt in large portions over the sides of the trucks.  
  
"Danger! Danger!", screamed the trucks, as they dragged Oliver up the small hill. Oliver shut his eyes and took a deep breath as he applied his emergency brake, the night watchman keeping control at all times. But the weight was far too much.  
  
"Another few yards and we'll have em'", he called from the cab.  
  
But they had just reached the hill when it happened.  
  
Oliver knew that he had to keep his concentration on the trucks and bringing them to stop in time. But no sooner had he reached the peak of the hill, the front four trucks already starting to coast down the other side, a distant chugging sound caught his attention. It was the same sound he had heard back in the yard. But this was a bad mistake.  
  
The coupling tightened...strained...and with a loud SNAP! , the front four trucks broke away completely from the train. They coasted down the hill at an alarming rate, screaming, swinging and swaying all the way, the ballast spilling everything - "We've broken away! We've broken away!". Oliver shut his eyes, as with a mighty jerk, the heavy trucks jumped the sharp curve at the bottom of the hill, and ploughed through the wooden fence beside the line. There was a mighty SPLASH! ...and then silence. Oliver opened his eyes once again, to find the runaway trucks resting deep in a dirty pond. The ballast had sunk, and so had his heart.  
  
"Oh dear", he sighed, "Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!"  
  
The night-watchman was speechless, and wasted no time, as he turned back instantly and ran for the yard to telephone for help. All the while, Oliver could only stare at the sunken trucks at the foot of the hill and the terrible mess that they had left behind.  
  
*  
  
Duck arrived as quickly as he could the next morning with the break-down train. The trucks were salvaged, but the ballast was lost. Sir Topham Hatt had come to watch the operation as Oliver stood back beside Duck - "I don't understand it", he whimpered, "One minute they were they, the next they were...gone!"  
  
"You tried your best to save them", soothed Duck, "Besides, it wasn't your fault. The Fat Controller will see that".  
  
But Duck was wrong, and Oliver wished he hadn't been. The Fat Controller spun around, his face alive with anger, a stern finger pointed directly at Oliver - "That was your final chance to redeem yourself Oliver", he said, his voice booming all around, "But it seems that you can't handle such tasks. Now the Small Railway will need to work twice as hard to recover the ballast that you lost last night"  
  
"But sir!", Oliver spluttered, "It wasn't my fault!"  
  
"You were the only engine in the yard at the time", the Fat Controller boomed, "You were responsible for those trucks, and now you shall face the consequences for this accident. You are to go to Thomas' Branch Line and assist at the Quarry until I can trust you to behave here".  
  
Oliver didn't reply. Derek and Colin climbed into his cab, exchanging worried looks, and with one final toot of his whistle, Oliver steamed sadly away, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek. Duck watched him disappear, deep in thought and anxiety.  
  
***** 


	5. United We Stand

UNITED WE STAND  
  
Duck was worried. Days had past and Oliver had still not returned from Ffarqhar. He had hoped Sir Topham Hatt would forgive him, but he hadn't seen the good manager since the morning after the accident. So Duck was left to run the branch line alone. He didn't mind the extra work, but since Oliver's departure, the entire line seemed to become quiet and characterless. His friends would ask about Oliver, but Duck could give no answer. Douglas often came from the Mainline to help him and to take Oliver's trains - "Dinna fash yersel Duck", he would say, "The wee engine'll be back in nor time at all!". Duck certainly hoped so.  
  
*  
  
One early morning, Duck arrived at the first station, on time as usual, ready to take the morning passengers to Knapford. But much to his surprise, the platform was empty with the exception of the station-master and one or two of Duck's friends.  
  
"I can't understand it", said the station-master, "The news couldn't have spread that quickly"  
  
"One accident could never make us give up our train trips with Duck and Oliver", said Duck's friend, "I would never give up my ticket on the Little Western for a bus!"  
  
"A bus?", asked Duck worriedly.  
  
"That big red brute was down at the village green", explained a second man, "His crew were giving out leaflets. They were trying to get us to sign a partition to surrender railway passenger traffic to their shameless company. They had newspaper article cuttings from last week about the accident as 'evidence' against the line".  
  
"Oliver may be away", Duck hissed, trying to hold back his anger, "But I won't surrender any of my passengers to Brutus or his company. I don't care if I arrive in Knapford with only one passenger".  
  
"That's the spirit old boy", said his driver, "Let's get going before we make ourselves late. Besides, there are several stations along the way. Brutus couldn't have gone that far".  
  
They set off with little time to waste. Duck was anxious, and kept an eye on the road-side whenever it came parallel with the railway. But all seemed clear, and there was no sign of Brutus, or their passengers. Indeed, they did stop at several stations, met by their loyal friends, but it was clear from their numbers that Brutus had beaten them to it.  
  
An hour or so later, Duck arrived at the level crossing where Oliver and George had 'dueled'. The road-maintenance company had built gates and a signal-box to control the road and rail traffic coming and going (and also to prevent 'duels' in the future, by demand of Sir Topham Hatt). However, the wind was playing tricks, and the gates were swinging about dangerously. Duck had to stop, as his driver and fireman jumped down to help the signal-man keep them under control. But as he was waiting, none other then Brutus arrived. He was heading back towards the first station from Knapford. He was looking extremely pleased with himself.  
  
"Hello Duck", he said with his usual grin, "It's a pity that you couldn't make it in time. I had to stand in for you"  
  
Duck ignored him. He was in no mood to argue with the arrogant bus, but much to his annoyance Brutus continued - "It is a shame about your friend", he went on sarcastically, "Loosing an important load. It just goes back to what I said before... 'It's Safer By Road', and now, all your passengers know it!".  
  
Both of Brutus' decks were full. Alice and Mirabel gasped - "Those are our passengers!", they tittered, "How dare he!". But Duck hushed them before speaking - "You should be careful what you say", he said warningly, "Your up to something and be warned that whatever it is, you'll be caught out before you can even think of replacing us. I won't let you, even if I have to do it alone".  
  
At that moment, the gates to the crossing were fixed and set open to allow Duck to pass. Brutus watched him puff away, before trundling off, back towards the top-station chuckling ghoulishly.  
  
*  
  
On some occasions, Douglas would bring Toad to the Little Western Branch to assist with goods work. But today, Douglas was called back to the Mainline. Toad, on the other hand, was concerned - "May I say here and work with Mr. Duck for a while?", he asked, "I can't bare to see a fellow 'Westerner' suffer". Douglas agreed and left Toad on the works siding. Duck was pleased to see the loyal brake van as he arrived back from Knapford that afternoon. He was glad to have someone else 'Great Western' around, though he still missed Oliver.  
  
"Would something be troubling you Mr. Duck?", asked Toad that evening, as Duck pulled him home to the yard having just taken an important goods train to the Mainline, "Mr. Douglas tells me you've been down at late".  
  
"I'm not sure Toad", Duck replied, "But something doesn't feel right" - he told Toad everything that had happened over the previous month.  
  
"It's not like Mr. Oliver to let runaway trucks derail", muttered Toad, "He learns his lessons fast, especially when trucks are involved. He's never lost a train in years".  
  
"Which is why I find it so odd", Duck continued, "Why would he start all of a sudden, without warning? I think something is up. Maybe", he added gravely, "Someone tried to 'frame' Oliver. But the question is, who? And better still, why?"  
  
"Then there is only one thing to do", said Toad, "An investigation. And we present the evidence to the manager".  
  
"I'm not sure", muttered Duck thoughtfully, "The Fat Controller can be very difficult to persuade. I've never seen him more angry the day he sent Oliver away..."  
  
"Innocent, until proven guilt Mr. Oliver", Toad whispered with a smile.  
  
Duck thought about this for a long time. And by the time they reached the yard, he had come to a conclusion - "If that's how we can prove Oliver's innocence", he said, "Then that is what we shall do. We'll start tomorrow!"  
  
*  
  
The next day, Duck and Toad were sent to work at the depot near the Small Railway. This was a perfect moment for them to start their investigation. As the men took a few minutes to break at midday, Duck shunted Toad up alongside where Rex, Bert, Mike and Jock stood outside their little shed, enjoying a rest.  
  
"You wouldn't mind helping us would you?", asked Duck, "We're performing an investigation"  
  
"Into what?", asked Mike swiftly.  
  
"Into Mr. Oliver's 'runaway-trucks'", explained Toad.  
  
"Ha!", Mike spat rudely, "That was just clumsiness. Not only that, but we've had to work twice as hard to make up for the ballast that he lost!" - But Bert quickly hushed him - "Don't be so rude Mike", he snapped, "It was an accident after all".  
  
"Accident indeed", Mike sniffed.  
  
"Don't listen to him", Rex winked, "Accident or not, we'll try and help you out in any way we can".  
  
Duck and Toad put to the four little engines their suspicions of a 'set- up'. Quite to their surprise, the four were quite excited by the idea, Jock in particular - "It sounds like one of those things driver often sees on the tellysomething", he chuckled, "Only now we're caught up in it for real".  
  
"You didn't see anything did you Mr. Jock?", asked Toad.  
  
"Now that I think about it", Jock pondered, "I think I did. Yes, I remember. I couldn't sleep on that night because I was the last to wake up, and the Small Controller had asked me to do more as a punishment. It was that, and because Mike was snoring" - Rex and Bert snorted with laughter as Mike pulled a face of disgust - "I remember being awake quite late, and then I heard a noise from outside".  
  
Duck gasped - "A noise? What kind of noise?"  
  
"It sounded like 'puffing', like an engine. No, something big, heavy and noisy. I thought a steam-roller was coming at me..."  
  
Duck jumped at the mention of steam-rollers. But before he could ask further questions, the foreman set them back to work. He couldn't concentrate. He already felt that he was onto something important. By the time that evening fell, the last train was ready to be taken back to the yard. Duck arranged the trucks in front of Toad and backed down, ready to set off. He rolled along past the siding where the ballast trucks had been the night of the accident.  
  
"Don't worry Oliver", he thought, "We'll get to the bottom of it".  
  
No sooner had they reached the hill when the entire train was brought to a screaming halt. Duck's driver looks back - "That was the guard's brake", he said, "Whatever could the matter be?"  
  
"Mr. Duck!", Toad cried from the end of the train, "You must see this!".  
  
The guard appeared, dragging along behind him, a long, dirty, rusty chain - "Toad spotted it beside the line", he explained, "Whatever it's doing here is beyond me. It looks like it's been here for some time".  
  
Duck thought hard - "That's George's chain", he said, "And it was here that the trucks broke away. Maybe George had something to do with it. The small railway engines did say that they heard a noise that sounded like a steam- roller".  
  
"Duck?", asked his crew, "What are you talking about?"  
  
Duck explained everything to them, about his and Toad's plan to try and uncover the truth about Oliver's accident. But much to his confusion, they laughed - "This is serious", he said worriedly, "Oliver hasn't had an accident since he run in with the turn-table well. Why would he start having them now all of a sudden?".  
  
"Maybe he's just having a rough time", chuckled the fireman. But no sooner had he spoken, Toad called out again from the back of the train - "Mr. Duck! Mr. Guard!", he called excitedly, "You must take a look at this!".  
  
The guard ran back as Duck's driver and fireman backed him slowly down the hill. Sure enough, the fence that separated the road from the railway up the hill was broken. But what caught their attention most was a large black stain in the middle of the concrete road - "That's motor oil from the looks of it", said the guard, "But what significance does it have?"  
  
"Look closer", said Toad, "It forms a trail".  
  
And sure enough it did. It dripped all the way up the hill from the large patch, and seemed to take off at a cross-roads near the top - "That leads to the old bus station", said the fireman, "But does it supposed to mean something?" Duck let off steam loudly - "Why didn't I think of it before", he gasped. He whispered to his driver, fireman and the guard, who in turn told Toad, "Doesn't it make sense now?", he asked.  
  
"Surely", said Toad, "I had a feeling that brute was up to no good from the start".  
  
"The only problem is", said the guard, "If you want to prove your point, you'd better provide solid evidence if the Fat Controller is to believe a word of it. You'll need more then a rusty chain and some oil stains".  
  
Duck knew this was true, but was determined not to give up. Instead, he rolled home, thinking long and hard - "There must be a way! There must be a way!". But by the time he arrived back at the station, evening had drawn on, and he still hadn't thought of a single idea. But he soon discovered the next morning that he was not the only one trying to conjure a plan.  
  
*  
  
Duck bustled into the goods yard the next morning to collect Toad for another day at the ballast depot. But he was still feeling down - "If we leave it too late", he thought, "It'll only get worse". He found Toad on his usual siding, but was surprised to find him looking extremely happy.  
  
"I've been doing some thinking Mr. Duck", he said excitedly, "And I have the ideal plan" - He whispered everything to Duck.  
  
"Good gracious Toad", Duck gasped, "Are you it's safe? And what if it goes wrong? You could get hurt"  
  
"I'm willing to take the risk if it means Mr. Oliver puffs away a free engine", chuckled Toad, "Us 'Westerners' are a united front. We must stick together".  
  
"But how are you going to attract attention?", asked Duck, "You don't have a bell"  
  
"Don't be silly Mr. Duck", Toad grinned, "I'm not the one attracting attention!".  
  
Duck laughed as he realized - "Of course, Isabel!" - And he wasted no time, quickly pulling Toad out of the siding and off down the line to the carriage shed at the nearby station.  
  
They found Isabel sitting in the carriage shed alone, weeping. She hadn't been out since Oliver left for Ffarqhar. She missed Oliver and wanted him back. Duck and Toad felt sorry for her - "Come on my dear", said Toad kindly, "Don't cry now", and he told her everything, for she had not been informed of the accident.  
  
"Oooo", she shivered, "That's terrible". But she didn't feel at all pleased when Toad explained to her his plan - "I refuse", she said stubbornly, "I won't act as bait in this silly scheme".  
  
"This silly scheme just might prove to Sir Topham Hatt that Oliver is innocent", added Duck swiftly, "And if you are brave, he will be back here with us on the Little Western Branch, and he'll take you for a nice long run at once".  
  
Isabel couldn't refuse and she agreed at once. With everything settled, the three of them made final arrangements before Duck and Toad set off for the depot. During the afternoon break, they explained their plan to the Small Railway Engines as well, who were just as excited as Isabel - "It'll be quite a sight to see the expressions on their faces", Frank chuckled, but they kept everything quiet, and went about their days work as if nothing was to happen. But Duck knew there was only one thing left to do before he could give everyone the 'all clear'.  
  
*  
  
Duck arrived back at the top station with the last train of the day, which was empty with the exception of a few of his friends. As they climbed down from the coaches, they each whispered 'good luck' to him as they left the platform. Sir Topham Hatt was there too, and so was someone else, waiting to take him home. Sure enough, Brutus sat waiting in the station car-park, his motor humming. For the first time since his arrival, Duck was glad to see him. Everything had gone according to plan. The bus was scowling down at the ground as the passengers boarded. On closer inspection, Duck could see a mechanic was trying to fix something under his bonnet- an oil leak. But before he could observe any further, Sir Topham Hatt approached him warmly.  
  
"You have done well on your own Duck", he said proudly, "I knew that I could count on you to keep our service alive, even without Oliver".  
  
"Please sir", said Duck, "You will invite Oliver back eventually won't you? Otherwise this line wouldn't be the same again".  
  
The Fat Controller pondered - "Oliver's recent actions have caused a lot of trouble for me. The railway board are yet to take action. Until then, Oliver will have to remain at Ffarqhar until I can get to the bottom of this 'mystery'. But in the meantime, it should not distract you from your work".  
  
For a moment, Duck could see the pressure that the good manager was under. But he couldn't let it get in the way of his plan. He had to cough to get rid of the anxious lump in his throat - "Excuse me sir", he said at last, "Douglas is ill. Could I stand in for him tonight as the ballast depot 'pilot'?".  
  
"Certainly Duck", smiled the Fat Controller, "I'm glad to see that you are keeping our standards high" - and with that, he turned and headed for the bus. Brutus grinned at Duck as the mechanic slammed his bonnet down and shook his head hopelessly. But Duck was certain that very soon, the tables would be turning. Brutus had heard everything, which was exactly what Duck wanted. He hated lying, especially to the Fat Controller, but in this case, it was for an important cause. He waited for the bus to trundle out of the courtyard, oil leaking from his underside, blasting it's horn rudely, before setting off quickly for the carriage shed.  
  
Isabel whimpered loudly as Duck quietly shunted her and Toad into the  
siding. They had to be extra-careful so as not to wake up the night- watchman, or at least not just yet. She was nervous and the cold night air  
was whistling through her frames - "Oooo", she shivered, "I want to go  
home! I want to go home!"  
  
"Not now dear!", soothed Toad, "We've come this far. Just remember what you have to do. And above all, think of Oliver".  
  
Isabel stood, silent and brave as Duck was uncoupled. With the 'bait' in place, he scuttled around to the other side where the Small Railway Engines sat, waiting excitedly - "Remember to whistle as loud as you can when you hear the signal", he whispered, and with one final wink from each of them, he backed down behind a long line of trucks, well hidden.  
  
He waited, and he waited. An hour had passed, and still no activity occurred. The common fog was now beginning to seep into the yard, coating everything in silvery mist, making it almost ghost-like. Duck could hear Isabel whimpering, but he too was beginning to feel anxious - "Maybe this won't work after all", he thought, "What if..."  
  
"Good going Brutus! And that old tea-pot isn't anywhere to be seen!"  
  
"Keep ya voice down! You'll wake the night man!"  
  
"Look! A 'Western-Auto' and a 'goods-brake' too! They'll be lost without these!"  
  
"Stop wasting time and get the chain hooked"  
  
Duck nervously peered around the last truck, not daring to breath or make a sound. Sure enough, two lumbering shadows appeared out of the thick mist, one which he could immediately recognize as Brutus, standing in the distance. Closer to the line was George. A man, presumably his driver, was rummaging about in a tool-box to find something whilst two others looked anxiously up and down the line with flash-torches. The man with the tool- box looked up suddenly.  
  
"It's gone!", he shouted, "The chain!"  
  
Duck chuckled. The chain they had found beside the line sat safely in his coal bunker. He was certain to need it when presenting the case to Sir Topham Hatt. Just then, one of the two men with the flash-torches disappeared into Brutus, and emerged with a strong cable - "Here!", he hissed, "Use this".  
  
Duck continued to observe from his hiding-place, as the first man quickly darted across the track to where Toad and Isabel stood on their siding, pretending to be asleep. He fasted the cable to Toad's front coupling hook and attached the other end to George's rear bunker. They secured it to make sure it wouldn't snap before giving each other the thumbs up. Duck held his breath as the moment due closer.  
  
"They's get these wagons rolling", said George, as he started up, his noisy engine echoing across the yard. The sound of wheels turning soon accompanied this, as Duck saw with his own eyes, the big brute of a steam- roller towing Toad and Isabel out of the siding and down the line towards the hill, with Brutus leading the way. All that was left for now was...  
  
DING-A-LING-A-LING-A-LING-A-LING!  
  
The noise was deafening, but victorious, as Isabel sounded her bell loud and clear. Both George and Brutus jumped in fright and as the clumsy steam- roller bumped straight into the baneful bus' rear end. Suddenly, the doors to the little railway shed flew open and out came all five of the little engines, sounding their whistled (Frank sounded his horn) long and loud - "Stop Right There!", shouted Mike.  
  
The men were frozen with fear and didn't dare to move as the night-watchman came running down from his hut in his night-gown ran across the yard with his powerful lamp that shone brightly over the two stunned road-villains - "Royal Scot!", he cried, "What's all this?".  
  
Duck rolled out of his hiding place, smiling with triumph - "We've caught our criminals red-handed", he laughed, "I knew all along that that arrogant bus was up to no good, and to sink down to the levels of George. You should be ashamed" - both the bus and the steam-roller turned red with anger and began to fume loudly - "Just as we suspected, it was this who tried to frame Oliver by causing that accident"  
  
"No wonder", said the night-watchman, "I was sure I heard a steam-roller. Especially one as loud as that brute over there" - Ashes were starting to spit from George's funnel as the three men collapsed at the feet of the night-watchman.  
  
"Spare us!", cried the bus driver, the conductor and George's driver, all in chorus, "We'll do anything! Just don't tell the Fat Controller!"  
  
"And let you get away with attempting to steal rolling stock and cause another accident?", spluttered the night watchman, shining his torch upon Toad and Isabel, who was still ringing her bell loudly, "We'll see what the police have to say about that! Duck, go to Knapford and fetch Sir Topham Hatt and the chief of at once. Tell them that it's ergent".  
  
Duck wasted no time, and set off immediately, as the three men burst into sobs, whilst Brutus and George squirmed with embarrassment.  
  
*  
  
Oliver's return home was met with an eruption of cheers and whistles. All his friends had gathered at the platform, and Duck was sure to gather his faithful coaches, along with Toad, Donald and Douglas, to join in the celebrations. Oliver was quite surprised. He thought everyone would be cross with him, but he soon found out that he was wrong.  
  
"I would like to apologize to you Oliver", said the Fat Controller, who stood upon Duck's buffer beam to speak, "We were wrong to accuse you of these terrible crimes. But now, the real culprits have been caught, red- handed, and I can assure that they will not be interfering with us any more".  
  
"To think", he added, turning to the crowd on the platform, "That I agreed to allow a bus other then Bertie to help my engines. It would put them to shame. I can solemnly say that I too have learnt a lesson. Never believe what you read on the side of buses, unless it's Bertie of course!".  
  
The station exploded with laughter, as Bertie the Bus looked away, his cheeks flushing red as he sat in the courtyard outside the station.  
  
"I don't know how much to thank you", Oliver whispered to Duck, as the celebrations continued well into the night, "They were kind at Ffarqhar, but I couldn't bare to be away from our Little Western Branch Line".  
  
"Don't just thank me", smiled Duck, "Toad and Isabel were just as useful".  
  
Toad chuckled modestly and Isabel rang her bell with delight at this - "You know", Oliver went on, "Together, we make a powerful united front".  
  
"Us Great Westerners should stick together", added Toad.  
  
"Through thick and thin", concluded Duck, "Rain or Shine! The Little Western Branch will always be the home of true friendship, true comradeship, true steam, and above all..."  
  
"TRUE GREAT WESTERN ENGINES"  
  
***** 


	6. Epilogue

EPILOGUE  
  
Dear Friends  
  
So now you have read the stories, you'll know what actually happened during those eventful two months on one of Sodor's treasured lines. I hope that  
you enjoyed it,  
And believe you me, I most certainly enjoyed writing it myself.  
  
But many people ask me nowadays,  
'Whatever happened to George and Brutus?'  
To begin with, George is no longer a common sight on our roads. Rumour has it that he was sent to the scrap-yard, no, not to be broken up.  
He still has his uses, but at least whilst he's there, he'll learn what could indeed happen to him if he attempts to collaborate with buses again.  
At present, he has been replaced with a kindly diesel-roller named  
'Dennis'.  
Oliver was anxious, but when Dennis moved aside from him to pass at the crossing one day, Oliver hasn't been able to find a single bad-comment to  
pass about him. And nor has Sir Handle for that matter!  
  
As for George's driver, he is currently serving his time in prison for  
attempting to  
steal rolling stock, along with his new friends, Eddie and Earl.  
The local constable had his share of problems, keeping the three from  
'fisticuffs'.  
We'll close the book on that story.  
  
Oh yes, how could I forget. The old fellow himself, Brutus. Well, I certainly haven't seen him on the road at late. But interestingly  
enough,  
I was able to interview none other then his 'brother', Bulgy, in preparation for this book. I was quite surprised at what I heard. According to Bulgy, young Brutus was more of the 'act-before-thinking' type - 'His fate was set long before he was even drawn', the elderly bus joked, 'So was  
I, but at least I have company now! You'd be surprised how interesting hens will be!'.  
  
But does that still not answer your questions about Brutus?  
I'll leave you with this thought. Next time you visit the Little Western Branch, be sure to pay a visit to  
the  
Sodor Transport Museum at the end of the line.  
Duck and Oliver will be take you on a return trip.  
'Their collection of buses is certainly a treat', is a common saying  
between them.  
But, you'll have to see for yourself...one day! Oh yes, and one more thing, the oil-leaks on the floor won't ruin your day!  
  
The Author 


End file.
